


Spin

by saderaladon



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Cock Getting Hurt For Pleasure Because Pain and Feelings, F/M, Finger Sucking, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Manual Intercourse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rewrite, Self-Sufficient Masturbation, Smoking, Somewhat Hetero, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saderaladon/pseuds/saderaladon
Summary: "Oh, god! What are you---"He jumps, and Ginger jumps too. It is Ginger, though he can barely make her out.
Relationships: Female Ginger Fish/Tim Sköld, Ginger Fish/Tim Sköld
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Spin

**Author's Note:**

> The same as the first scene here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934837 - but with a slightly different angular momentum.
> 
> Because, apparently, I can.

***

When Tim wakes up it is still dark outside.

His bladder is full. His mouth is dry. Pogo grunts from the next bunk, the bus driver grunts right after him. Tim waits for John to snore as well, but he is the only one who's at least silent. Ginger isn't there to be seen.

Tim gets up, finds his cigarettes and a can of something and also gets out. He drinks, looking around, checking out the surroundings. The old gas station has some lights on, there are some bulky buildings in the distance, probably factories, and some sort of a shed in fifteen meters behind the bus. Tim takes a leak, lights up a smoke. He feels a rock under his boot and kicks it, and again, and again, taking drags and following it to the shed, turning the corner to see what's behind it.

"Oh, god! What are you---"

He jumps, and Ginger jumps too. It is Ginger, though he can barely make her out.

"Sorry, sorry," Tim says, showing her his palms. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Christ," she says, breathing ragged, fast. "Okay. God. Okay." She shifts on her feet, hands flying up and down, straighteing the fabric of her sweater-like pajama top. "What are you doing..." She swallows, pausing. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Tim says, swaying half a step back. "Just like... admiring the scenery?" He moves his shoulders, waving his hands around. "I think you woke me up when you were heading out."

"Oh," Ginger says. "Sorry, I..."

"It's fine," Tim says, glances at the cigarette still somehow stuck between his fingers, takes a drag. "My bladder would've done that job for you soon enough anyway."

"Oh."

"Why are you out?"

She shrugs, straightening her top again.

"I'm just... I couldn't sleep? I'm not feeling very well."

"Is it the pills?" Tim asks, finishing the cigarette and throwing the butt away. "You aren't, like, throwing up or something? Cuz if you..."

"No, no," Ginger shakes her head. "I'm fine. Just... Needed some air."

"Ah."

_Air._

Tim furrows his brow, looking her up and down, confused, as she shifts on her feet once more. Her usual baggy pajama top, sleeves rolled up, her hand around her elbow, a... a skirt?

"Oh, you've got..." he says, pointing down. "Your... skirt. It's uh..."

"Oh," Ginger says, tipping her head down, pulling at the fabric, at the skirt that apparently got semi-tucked under itself. "Thanks, I'm... Sorry about this, it's just..."

She drops something she was holding in her palm.

"Hey, let me..." Tim says, bending, grabbing at the white crumpled thing on the ground.

"No, you..." Ginger hurries out.

The white crumpled thing in his hand turns out to be panties.

"Oh," Tim breathes out. "Fuck. Shit. Uhm..."

Ginger huffs out a sound, shifting, stepping closer to the wall, her fingers twitching.

"I uh..."

"Sorry," Tim says, lifing his hand, attempting to pass the panties to her. "Here. Fuck." He laughs, a bit nervously. "Never any pockets where you need them, right?"

_Shit._

She shakes her head at him.

"Uhm, it's..." she says, maybe, smiling? "Yeah."

Her fingers brush against his lightly, a few times, as she takes the panties from him. He stares stupidly at her. The seconds pass.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay."

"Y-yeah," she says, both hands dropping.

He rocks on his feet, looking her up and down one more time. He rubs at his nape, opens his mouth.

"Uh..." he starts, voice uncertain. "Fuck. Can I... Can I ask?"

"S-sure."

He moves his lips, grabbing at the cigarette package in his pocket, trying to make out her face with no success whatsoever.

"Were you..." he bites his lower lip, gives the package a squeeze. "Shit, I'm... " _So gonna be punched for this._ He takes a deep breath. _Whatever._ "Were you, like... enjoying some private time in here?" He asks, quirking his face and enunciating _private_ , because she is probably having problems making his grimaces out too.

"Oh," she says, then swallows, sound a bit too loud. "I uh..." She laughs, kind of, very short. "Y-yeah? Sorry. I just..."

"Wow," Tim says.

"Cool," Tim says.

"Okay," Tim says.

Ginger lifts her hand, the panties squeezed in it, pushing the hair off her face, her motions jerky.

Tim pulls out the cigarette package, looks at it, then at her again.

"Fuck, I uh..." he says, bothering the lighter with his thumb. "So I should better fuck off, I guess? And you can..." he gestures at her, gestures something, whatever the fuck that something is. "I should go, right? Private time being... private. I shouldn't fucking interrupt and..."

"Oh, no, I... " she says, stuttering a little. "Yeah, if you... I don't think I'll be... Yeah. Okay. Yeah, of course."

"Okay," Tim nods. "Sure." He nods again. "Right."

He turns half away, taking a step aside, pulls the smoke out of the package, about to flick the lighter.

_What the hell._

"Hey, I..." he says, turning back to her, Ginger still almost the very same thing with that wall, pressed into it. "I mean, just fucking punch me if it's..." _It sure is_. He squeezes the lighter. "Shit, I just... How about I stay? And... You know, help you along? With that private business."

"Oh," she says, shifting. Or... shivering? "What... Are you even serious?"

Tim exhales, loud, shrugs.

"Yeah?" he offers. "I know it's... I mean, feel free to punch me and obviously I'll fuck off if you're... Fuck. It's just... This is, like, really hot." He gestures between them, pointing with the package, then laughs, shaking his head. "You. You're really fucking hot. Okay? And I... Why not? I really wanna stay. So... Can I? And yeah, if it's not why not, I'll just fucking go. I uh... Should I go?"

She makes a sound, meaning something, whatever the fuck that something is, tugs at the sleeve, the panties still in her palm.

"I uh..." she says. "Yeah, I... If you... Yeah..."

"Okay," Tim nods, sharp, cutting her short, forcing his feet to move, determined. _Christ. Fuck. Jesus Christ._

"You can... If you... You can stay," Ginger finishes.

_Oh._

Tim sways on his somewhat numb feet.

"Wow." Inhale. "Cool." Exhale. "Okay." Breathe.

He sways on his feet again.

He takes two steps forward, coming closer to her. He lifts his hand slowly, touches her skirt, then her thigh through it. She shivers, breathing in. She feels warm.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Tim asks, spreading his fingers just a little. "I mean, you... I really fucking need to smoke."

"No, no, of course," she says, shaking her head, hair covering her face he can't see anyway.

"Thanks?"

She's wet.

Tim snakes his hand under her skirt, pulling it up carefully, fabric slippery under his fingers, and takes a deep drag, holding the cigarette with his teeth, having finally flicked that damn lighter. Her skin is warm. He finds her clit, spreading, rubbing a little at the labia. She's wet. She's even warmer there, between her legs. She gasps, as he slides down, tipping the entrance, the knuckle of his thumb bumping in her clit.

_Fuck._

"Here?" he asks, staring pointlessly in her eyes, trying to figure out something. Anything. _Fucking hell._ "Like this? Or..."

"Uhm," she breathes out, voice wet and low.

_Fucking hell._

"Right," he says, starting to move his fingers in a hopefully less lost, disoriented fashion, the damn skirt sliding down, covering, tickling his wrist. "Okay."

Ginger's wet and warm and really, really fucking soft.

"Oh, god," she mutters, faint, maybe, licking her lips?

Tim's been forgetting to take the drags.

"Fuck," she says, breathy, and then her hand flies up, landing on his arm for a second, retreating instantly. "Sorry, I..."

"No, no," Tim hurries out, pushing the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, lips dry. "Hold it, if you want." He catches her hand, places it over his own shoulder, squeezes it a bit. "Okay? Just tell me..." He steps even closer, leaning in, putting his hand on her hip, sliding his fingers up and down between her labia slowly. "Is it... Like this?"

She shudders, letting out a moan. _Fucking hell and fucking heaven._

Tim spits the butt out, pushing into the touch a little, a lot more.

Ginger's wet and soft and really, really fucking hot, she gasps, her hand going tense, squeezing his shoulder, her other hand catching him by the wrist through the goddamn silky skirt.

"God, Tim, I..." she says, urgent, more breath than voice.

"Yeah?" Tim says, his whole mouth dry, speeding up his motions. "Fuck, yeah, come on, I..."

"God, no, wait," she stutters, her fingers going tighter. "Wait. I uh... You don't have to."

"What?" Tim blinks, head feeling heavy. His hand shakes a bit, his hand that's touching Ginger's pussy, that's touching her where she's wet and soft and so fucking hot. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, I just..." she starts, pauses, letting go of him. "I'm... If you don't want to, you don't..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim asks, too loud and raspy, feeling his hand between her legs going tense. _Fuck. Okay. Fucking hell._ "Of course I want to. Do you... Do you?"

Ginger lets out a sound, higher-pitched than usual, her fingers moving on his shoulder, as if in search of something.

"I... Yeah. Yeah. If you... Of course."

Fuck.

"Fuck," Tim says, pressing his fingers into her, his body into her, pulling her closer by the waist, feeling her skin under the baggy top. "Come on. Come here."

Ginger is wet and soft and so hot, she gasps and then again, and goes tight and clenches. Tim stares at her, as she comes, moving his fingers without stopping, moving his fingers that are so slick, moving his fingers until she goes all lax, almost liquid against him.

Tim still can't fucking see her, can't see her face, but he can bet she looks exactly like he feels. Lost in the fucking woods.

"Fucking... hell..." Ginger breathes out after a few seconds.

Tim manages a laugh.

"Yeah."

He sways away a little, pulls out the cigarette package, licks at his fingers, slick and hot and tasting of her, he licks them clean, unable to bite down the low growl that escapes his mouth. He flicks the lighter.

"Here," he offers her the cigarette, having taken the first, infinitely deep drag. "Do you wanna..."

She just looks at him for a bit, her eyes two black holes he can't see the edges of on her face he, it seems, will never ever make out too.

She takes the cigarette from him, her fingers brushing against his knuckles a few times, weak, sliding down.

"Thank you," she says.

"Sure."

He smiles, catching the outline of her lips, as she inhales smoke.

"Thanks," Ginger says, passing the cigarette back to him.

"Uh-huh."

Tim sucks the rest of it in two drages, throws the butt away.

Tim clenches his fists, rocking on his feet.

"Hey, Ginj. I uh..."

"Y-yeah?"

Tim swallows, sound way too loud. He clears his throat.

"Do you mind if I..." he says, gestures at himself, glancing down. "I fucking... Can I? Do you mind if I... too?"

"Uhm, I..."

Ginger glances down as well.

"Oh, you... Yeah. Yeah, of course. If you... If you want to."

Tim laughs, feeling his shoulders relaxing, grabbing at his cock through his pants, knuckles grazing against the belt, the zipper.

"Sure I fucking do," he says. "I'm like a leaking faucet down there."

She huffs out something, maybe a laugh. A sound.

He pulls his cock out, submitting a loud, unrestrained moan of his own.

"F-fuck," he says.

He hears Ginger's breath catching, time after time. He listens to it, staring at her figure, at her invisible, obscure face.

He's _hard._

It takes his astray personality a few seconds to kick in.

"F-fuck," Tim says, his hand going tenser, fingers itching, his cock slicker than it has ever been. "Ginj, I..."

Her hand flies up once more, her warm fingers around his arm. _Fuck._

He squeezes his fingers tighter, as tight as he fucking can, hissing, letting out another growl, wringing out his cock.

"Oh, god, Tim, what are you..."

"It's fine," he spits out, twists his cock, his wrist turning. Fucked up animal torturer he is. "I'm just..." Fucked up animal torturer strangling pet squirrles in the playground. "Fuck. Sorry. I fucking can't."

He moans, his hand on the cock going even tighter, his other hand attempting to grab at Ginger, the back of her neck, her shoulder, hair, something, _anything_.

"Can I?" he asks, panting, the darkness before his eyes going bright and brighter.

"I uh..." she says, she shifts, shifts closer to him, his grabbing hand finding a purchase. "Yes, yes, of course. I uh... If you... I can... Do you want anything?"

And brighter, brighter still.

Tim snarls, twisting his cock, ready to burst.

"Fingers," he squeezes out through his teeth, squeezes himself harder. "F-fuck."

Ginger's breath hits his face. Shocked? Surprised? _Fucking hell._

"Sorry... What?"

"Give me your fingers," Tim says, voice cutting, tense. "Just shove them... Fucking hell. Just put them in my damn mouth."

Ginger does. She does. _Isn't it fucking magic?_

Ginger puts her fingers in Tim's damn mouth, not quite shoving them in there, but still sliding them in, onto his tongue, between his dry lips, and Tim snarls again, trying to express his gratitude, and sucks on them in earnest, trying not to dig his fingers into Ginger's warm, bony shoulder under the damn pajama top, clawing the fabric, resisting putting them, this hand, to better use, which is what he wants to do.

He wants to slap - whomever. He wants to choke her. He wants to choke himself.

He has been going overboard since the very first second of this, but fuck, he mustn't. He mustn't spoil this beyond repair, not fucking now. This is magic. This is _good._

Tim sucks on Ginger's fingers, gurgling, almost swallowing them, and twists his cock, hard, hard enough and harder, and comes, and bursts, as the warm darkness staring at him goes brighter still, he comes, hearing her soft breathing, feeling it on his face.

Tim wipes his hand over his pants, trying to regain control of his lungs.

"Are you alright?" Ginger asks, her hand barely there on his arm.

"Yeah," Tim says. "Fuck. This was amazing. Fucking hell, Ginj. God."

He sways, one last shudder going through him.

"Do you..." she starts again, uncertain. "Do you want me to hug you?"

"Hell, yeah."

Ginger pats his back, after he leans closer, after he almost falls on her. She pats his back, right there, between his shoulderblades.

Tim hums. The seconds pass.

"Fuck," Tim says, feeling really reluctant to ever move again. "I need to fucking smoke."

And Ginger moves, so Tim moves too, pulls out the package, asking her if she wants one too and if she could please pull out the damn cigarettes and maybe light them up for him as well, and Ginger does, Ginger sure can. So they smoke, Ginger pressed into the wall, Tim leaning on it, palm on the concrete right above her shoulder, fucking crowding her, still too damn heavy and unsteady to actually move in any distinct direction, just swaying and puffing out the smoke instead.

"Are you sleepy?" Ginger asks, voice soft, quiet, maybe a bit tired.

"Yeah. Fuck. You?"

"Yes, I think. Yeah. Do you want to go back?"

Tim nods, and they go back.

The bus sounds the same like when he left: of snoring.

"Night, dear," Tim slurs out and falls face forward on his bed.

"Good night."

***

Her panties?

Her panties are by this day chilling out there, forgotten, on the ground, by the shed.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________


End file.
